


The Choices We Make

by tenecty



Series: Somewhere in between Hogwarts and you [3]
Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Eventual Smut, Fluff, M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-29
Packaged: 2019-10-13 23:03:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,826
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17497052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tenecty/pseuds/tenecty
Summary: When Slytherin’s prince, Ten, gets into trouble yet again, and is on the verge of being exiled, his father gives him a ticket of redemption in the form of employing a Hufflepuff tutor, Taeyong. He expects the Hufflepuff to give up and leave like the rest did, and yet he doesn’t, and probably never will.





	1. ARE

**Author's Note:**

> new fic!!! this is a hogwarts-royalty au so it can be a little complicated. as you read, hopefully the universe will reveal yourself and you can grasp the concept of it!! i miss taeten, and their interactions will probably be quite limited so here it is, to feed our taeten nation.

_**CHAPTER** _ **1:** _**ARE** _

 

“So let’s see,” the man pushes up his glasses, narrowing his eyes are the long list of offenses. 

 

“Skipping classes, five counts,” he looks up, glaring at the teen who simply rolls his eyes and scoffs. “Professor Snape is boring.” He comments, and his father starts to wonder if he will ever take any of these weekly meetings seriously. 

 

“Expelliarmus ink bottles, quills and papers, thus creating a mess in the  _ teachers’  _ room,” his father narrows his eyes, becoming slits as he reads further, “and using accio to summon all the Hufflepuffs’ brooms, effectively having a walkover for a _ friendly  _ match.” He raises his eyebrows in a ‘really?’ manner, and the teen shrugs. 

 

“What? You should have seen the look on their faces, Father. You would have loved it.” 

“I seriously doubt I would.” The man sighs as he kneads his temples, the scroll dangling from his fingertips. “Ten, that’s enough already. I didn’t meddle, as with your professors, because you were young. Now you’re not. You’re eighteen, you’ll be taking N.E.W.T this year. Don’t you think it’s time you  _ grow up _ ?” 

 

There is little fury in the voice, more of exasperation and helplessness. Ten has never been one to sit still. He’s hot headed, flirtatious, mischievous, and a troublemaker in general. To say the least, he is rather selfish, doing things for his own pleasure, rather than think of the repercussions that comes with it, because frankly, there has never  _ been  _ any repercussions. 

 

Part of the Royalties, the four houses each have their own share of  aristocrats, and their Kings make up the Council, that rule over the wizarding world. Ten, being the son of a royal, is technically allowed to do whatever he wants, though that is not to say that the rumours are getting more malicious as his deeds grow atrocious. 

 

Furthermore, the fact that he is gay, certainly doesn’t help much. 

 

His father, believe him, tries his best. But he doesn’t believe in restricting his children, and perhaps gave them way too much freedom, to the point where is authority, which is absolute in their world, becomes meaningless. 

 

“I’m sending you away.” 

 

“What?” 

 

“You do know that after the age of eighteen, princes have to undergo royal training right? I’m considering pulling you out. You are not fit for a King. You may have royal blood running through you, but you never did possess the qualities of a royal.” The words are harsh and cutting, and Ten clenches his jaw as his fingers curl into a fist. 

 

“What the hell do you mean?” 

 

“You’re exiled.” His father says calmly, clasping his hands together as his eyes reflect a nonchalant gaze, his emerald and jade rings twinkling in the sunlight. 

 

“My King, please-” 

 

“This is not up for discussion.” The King says, standing up as his rich red royal robes flow, and he sweeps out of the room, Ten’s mother giving him a helpless glance, before she runs after him, persuasions running from her tongue. 

 

Ten stands there for a long time, the loneliness of the room bathing around him, the throne room clad in all its richness and glamour, and yet cold to the touch, as it lacks the warmth of humanity and family.

  
  


He bites his lips as he taps his fingers against the window sill, the outside world seemingly calm, the breeze blowing lightly while the trees shed their leaves of orange and red, a contrast to the mayhem in his heart. 

 

“Come on, pick up, pick up,” he murmurs under his breath. He desperately needs someone to talk to. He can’t be exiled! That’s worse than being a peasant. Exiles have no place in society, leaving in cold mountains of solidarity, wasting the rest of their lives in barren land. He’s young, healthy, strong and full of potential. He’s smart, and he knows it, he just isn’t willing to put it into use. He will now, though. Anything to exchange the one way ticket to eternal hell. 

 

“What’s up?” The voice crackles through the phone, and Ten almost wants to cry at the softness of Jaehyun’s voice. 

  
  


“Hey, what’s wrong?” Jaehyun panics, jolting up from his bed at the soft sobs coming through his phone. 

 

Saturdays, are the usual days Ten calls as he rants on and on about his father, but he certainly never cries. Jaehyun was even wondering why his call was late, coming through just as the sun sets, and he got distracted as Johnny nips on his neck, warm lips against soft skin, that he completely forgot about his best friend. 

 

Now, the gentle cries are pulling him out of his euphoria and Johnny’s eyes are wide and alert, an arm slung over Jaehyun’s torso, fingers splayed on his bare stomach. ‘What’s wrong?’ he mouths, and Jaehyun shushes him as he listens to Ten’s story in between broken sobs, and he is out of his bed, changing into his royal robes, and out of the door in no time, Johnny scrambling after him. 

  
  


“What’s he doing here?” Ten glares at Johnny, the other staring back nonchalantly. He’s used to it. He knows what most Royals thinks of the Tainted. Impure bloods, half bloods, and non royal bloods are all categorised under the term, and what makes it worse is that he, Johnny, is a half blood  _ and _ an impure, so really he can’t blame Ten much. 

 

“He’s my bodyguard? If you forgot?” Jaehyun says sarcastically, shooting daggers at Ten. He loves the other like a brother, but sometimes, he can go overboard. 

 

“A body guard? In your bedroom? Please don’t tell me you were having sex.” Jaehyun flinches at the word while Johnny smirks, laughing. “H-how did you know?” Jaehyun scratches the back of his head sheepishly, as one of the servants brings in a tray of tea. 

 

“You should learn how to cover the marks. And fix the bed. And throw out the trash.” Ten snickers as Jaehyun blushes. For a best friend to Ten, he sure is shy about these kind of things. 

 

They’ve grown up together. Most of the Ravenclaw and Slytherin royals do; they are good allies after all. The Ravenclaws appreciate the wit and intelligence of the Slytherins to pull off their cunning and sly tricks, and admire them for their bold leadership. The Slytherins, on the other hand, find good use in the Ravenclaws intelligence, often using their people to poke fun at loopholes in the other two houses’ proposals and policies.

 

Jaehyun can still remember the day he met Ten. The Slytherin King had brought his son for a meeting, since his mother was sick, and they didn’t have a Keeper. Most royal households had a Keeper, or a nanny, but rumour had it that the Slytherin prince was far too troublesome and mischievous for anyone, even the Slytherin themselves, to handle, so they left him without one. 

 

Jaehyun had hid behind his mother, peeking behind her robes as he watches the other. He had chubby cheeks, round eyes, but a grin on his face that could only spell trouble. 

 

And yet, when Jaehyun had tripped over himself, only four years old then, expecting the Slytherin prince to scoff and laugh at him, worse, kick him and tease him, he had offered a hand to help, crouching as he got nearer, the prettiest, kindest smile on his face, as his skin glowed under the hot sun. 

 

His words were comforting as his soft fingers worked ointment into the wound, his laughter like melody. His eyes, don’t hold the usual sharpness, but were gentle and careful, kind and beautiful. 

 

Jaehyun tries to conjure up that image of Ten, whenever the other  Petrificus Totalus a poor first year, Alohomora the Hufflepuff common room to ransack and make a mess out of it.

  
  


“So? What’s your plan?” Jaehyun asks, as he takes a sip, the sweet tea burning down his throat. 

 

The Slytherin shrugs. “Can’t plan a murder in two days, can I?” Johnny’s jaw drops in a ‘what?’ while Jaehyun just shakes his head, breathing out a laugh. “No, no you can’t.”

 

“My mum was talking to him though. Hopefully something good comes out of that.” 

 

“Or have you ever considered just being  _ good? _ ” Johnny suggests, flabbergasted at the other, the audacity and lack of common sense. 

 

“Good?” Ten scoffs, rising from his seat, leaning over the table, fingers flat against the cold marble as his eyes, cutting in their darkness, lock with Johnny’s shocked orbs. He leans close, lips an inch away from the shell of his ear, voice low and sly, a curling smirk on his lips. 

 

“I can never be  _ good _ .”

 

♔

 

“ What’s this?” The voice cuts through the many voices, Ten’s hands on his hips as his dark hair falls over his eyes, making his cold expression, possibly freezing. 

 

The King smiles, though not a kind one. That’s the thing that ties father and son together. 

 

Once, he had asked if he really was his father’s, and back then, they had a good relationship. His father had traced his face, pulling at the corners of his mouth. “We have the same smile.” He says gently, Ten looking at him with laughing eyes, the corners of his mouth pulled up in genuine happiness. 

 

Now, they mirror the same expression, void of happiness, opposite sides of a chessboard, black facing white, two Kings in stalemate. 

 

“You are lucky your mother is persuasive and endearing. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be standing here, looking at me with that arrogant air of yours.” He hisses, and Ten says nothing, eyeing his mother who stands near his throne, head bowed, her hair shining under the lights, but her face, dark and fallen, as if she was  _ sorry. _

 

“I’m shortlisting your tutors-” 

 

“I don’t need any. I am not a child.” Ten interrupts, gritting his teeth, unknown anger, unfurling in his chest. 

 

“Well, you behave like one.” His father retorts, and if not for the numerous guards, some of their rings clicking against the emerald engraved in the handles of their wands, he would have yelled a sharp remark back. 

 

“Whatever. They will never stay, anyway.” Ten waves dismissively as he leaves the throne room, his stomps echoing through the silence, everyone watching him leave, his dark green cloak flowing gracefully behind him, his back straight, head held high. 

  
  
  


Taeyong watches him through his glasses, his face calm and unfazed, his mouth shut, unlike the rest of his applicants, muttering as soon as the prince left the room, jittery with nervousness, wondering if they have made the wrong choice.

 

Taeyong sighs under his breath. He too, had signed up for the large sum of money promised, and the fact that they were the only aristocrats who didn’t mind the lowest ranks of the Tainted. 

 

If he had known that the prince would be so difficult, he wouldn’t have signed up. But come to think of it, he wonders as he lifts his head as the King calls him, and he bows low as he reports his name and status, he quite likes the fire in that boy.

 

♔

 

“This is your new tutor. Don’t put our name to shame with your reckless acts. Listen to him.” The King says, and Ten scoffs, not even sparing Taeyong a glance. 

 

Taeyong’s eyes scan the boy’s features. He has the classic sharp jaw, strong facial features, high cheekbones, lips that dip and shape like it was personally sculpted by the gods. His eyes are dark, and they hold a green shift. Below the jaw, the neck is pale, and dips beautifully into the sharp collarbones, and between them, lies the royal emerald, the gem of the Slytherins. 

 

Perhaps he could have been kind, Taeyong thinks. His eyes can be kind, if their hard facade falls away, and the cunningness ebbs. His lips can be less cruel, if they spill the right words, and shape into something sweeter, rather than the smirk that runs chills down Taeyong’s spine. 

 

“Haven’t I already shamed you?” Ten retorts, staring out into the window as a cigarette hangs on the edge of his lips. His father is silent, as if contemplating a cutting remark, but says nothing to him. 

 

“I will leave you to him,” he smiles at Taeyong, who bows respectfully, and remains in his position as the King takes his leave. 

  
  


Ten narrows his eyes at his tutor. He hates to admit it, but he thinks the man can rank as one of the most beautiful faces in the world. The features are sharp yet soft, a perfect balance. His glasses, silver rimmed, hang on his high nose bridge, and his lips aren’t exceptionally full, but they are pretty enough. 

 

Puppy eyes that hold a sense of calmness amidst a storm, are what intrigue Ten the most; coming a close second, is his piercings. His father detests piercings, especially on males, and Ten wonders how Taeyong passed his interviewed. 

 

His tutor had ignored the cold attitude of his student, and had a book in his white sleeved hand, back straight as his head bent, studying the notes carefully, fingers tapping against the wood as he periodically looked up, head tilting as Ten stares back at him. 

 

The silence is unbearable, and Ten bites at the next stare. 

 

“Well? Aren’t you going to ask me to study?” Ten asks, curiosity overflowing. 

 

A moment of silence passes, and Ten wonders if he has to repeat his question. “You don’t want to. How can I force you?” Taeyong replies simply, returning back to his book. 

 

Ten grits his teeth as intriguement eats him up, and he jumps from his seat, sliding next to Taeyong, as quiet as a snake. 

 

“What’s so interesting?” He intends for the question to scare, but Taeyong barely flinches. “Reports.” Taeyong replies, without missing a beat, and Ten watches his eyes scan the page, full of scribblings, dates, names, numbers; it makes his head ache. 

 

“Aren’t you just a tutor?” Ten asks, sitting himself in his desk, tilting his head as he leans against his wrist.”‘Why the reports?” 

 

“......” Taeyong simply glances at him, before ignoring him, and turning back to his work. 

 

It’s going to be a  _ long _ day.

 

♔

 

“......” Taeyong remains quiet as he stands next to the headmaster, Ten dragged into the office as a cut on his forehead bleeds, and he glares at the ground while the headmaster sighs. 

 

“Report.” The headmaster calls, sighing, his eyes narrowing at the sight of a regular comer. How many more is he going to turn a blind eye too? He will have a word with the King. This can’t go on anymore. 

 

“Slytherin student punched Hufflepuff student. Slytherin count is five, and reaches the maximum. 10 points recommended for deduction.” The prefect replies, monotonous, though Taeyong can tell, that fear courses deep. He wonders just exactly what Ten did, to gain himself such a reputation. 

  
  
  


“Alright, well, what’s your deal?” Yuta asks, eyeing the man up and down. Taeyong sighs, the Slytherins always want something in return. 

 

“35 Galleons.” Taeyong holds up a bag that is heavy with the coins, and Yuta huffs, but takes it anyway. 

 

They’ve known each other for a number of years, practicing to become aurors together, until the Pures decided that the Tainted are just not good enough; and so, they had separated ways. While Taeyong was earning his keep through respectable means, Yuta had turned to bribery and crime, and Taeyong always gives him a little extra, hoping it would put him out of his misery. It never does. 

 

Yuta leans against the trunk of a tree, while Taeyong watches, opposite him, feet crunching against the wet moss as he waits patiently. Through broken chains of smoke, Yuta’s eyes faraway as if retelling a long lost story, he gives Taeyong the information he wants. 

 

“That boy is no ordinary boy.” He starts off, and Taeyong nods in agreement, certainly, he can see that. 

 

“Did you see his mother?” Taeyong nods again, intriguement barely contained in himself. “She isn’t his biological mother, but rather, one of his Keepers, but later, she married the King, and he became far too much to handle, so they didn’t employ anymore.” 

 

“His mother died previously, and though the court did not rule it, word on the street is that the King had executed her, because she was of Tainted blood. Ridiculous, how it is, huh, some say she is only 1% Tainted. After that, he despised Ten, and the boy hated his father, for killing his mother.”    
  


“Maybe it has something to do with the anger inside him, and he lashed out. I remember him, when I visited their palace once. He was the sweetest boy, back then. The next thing I know, I see him on the streets breaking someone’s nose.” Yuta shakes his head as he puffs another string of smoke, and they dissipate into the mistiness of the forest. 

 

“But, he is extremely intelligent and talented. Wonderfully gifted in the arts. Only, he uses his magic in the wrong way, always to hurt others.” Yuta says, as he thinks of the times Winwin, his partner, who is a professor at the school, had recounted the times Ten obliviated the top of his class for fun, used Wingardium Leviosa to tease first years, and most seriously, used Sectumsempra, deeply wounding a classmate who had taunted him with his mother’s death. 

 

He tells these to Taeyong, who chews on his bottom lip thoughtfully, taking it all in. 

 

“Not much action is taken against him, simply because he is a Pure, and a royal. Everyone hates him, but no one dares go against him. You know how it is.” Yuta says nonchalantly, and something sparks in Taeyong, wishing to say that it shouldn’t be how it is, but the truth is, there is nothing in the world that can change their twisted society.

 

“I heard he is good friends with Jung Jaehyun, though. That boy is a real prince, gentlemanly, sweet, caring, kind. Makes sense that Jaehyun stays by him, though anyone near the Slytherin prince is pretty much automatically labelled as ‘bad’.” Yuta muses. 

 

Taeyong thanks the man, reminds him not to smoke too much and to find a legitimate job, in which his friend had simply shrugged, waving a half hearted goodbye. 

 

♔

 

Ten hisses as the antiseptic comes into contact with his wound yet again. His eyes are on fire as he shoots daggers at his tutor, who pays no attention to him, brushing the boy’s hair back as he inspects the wound further. 

 

“It should heal in a couple of days.” Taeyong tells him, pressing the antiseptic drenched cotton on the wound, Ten wincing as his hold on Taeyong’s wrist tighten. 

 

“I need to clean it, my Prince. Otherwise, it would get infected, and that would be very much more troublesome.” Taeyong says gently, prying the fingers off him. 

 

Ten huffs as he watches the other methodically clean and bandage his wound. Never, has anyone done this for him. Jaehyun used to, but then it got so frequent, he didn’t bother anymore. 

 

Despite the biting pain, it oddly feels comforting, that someone cares enough to clean his wounds, instead of screaming at him for breaking the rules and someone’s jaw, again. 

 

“Are you not going to get angry at me?” Ten wonders out loud, and Taeyong freezes, catching the other’s eye. Below the curiosity, is certainly some long term hurt, and Taeyong wonders if anyone ever cared, to tend to the broken heart beneath the tough facade. 

 

“I am not angry.” Taeyong says softly, as he turns around, to grab a bandage, careful as he wraps it around Ten’s head. “Why would I be?” He asks, holding Ten’s head to position the cloth, and Ten tries to ignore the pull on his heartstrings. 

 

“Why did you punch him?” Taeyong questions, crossing his arms once they were done, and the medical things were cleared away, nothing between them as Ten sits in his bed, his blanket thrown over his legs, Taeyong standing at the side. 

 

Ten doesn’t reply, looking away, finding sudden interest in the trees outside, swaying gently with the breeze. Spring is here, and the monsoons are just beginning, light drizzles blessing the kingdom. 

 

“He was being annoying.” He finally replies. Usually, he has no problem with ignoring others, but perhaps when he is given a taste of his own medicine, he finds it hard to keep up the cold front. 

 

“And why was he being annoying?” Taeyong asks, eyes trailing after the restless teen as he roams around the room, picking at some of the books. He follows the other, snatching the book away, fingers curling over the chin to force Ten to look at him. The boy needs to be taught some basic manners. 

 

Taeyong’s fierce demeanour only sparks anger in Ten. “He said some rather nasty things to me, so  _ I think _ , I have every right to punch him in his fucking face.”

 

Taeyong slams the book back into its place, his voice low and steady. This isn’t his usual Hufflepuff self, but he figures to deal with an extraordinary Slytherin, he had better step up his game. 

 

“Mind your language. And how does that give you the right to punch him, hmm?” Taeyong taunts. 

 

“Because unlike you and your idiotic bumblebees, I know how to defend myself.” Ten retorts, eyes so sharp and dark, the glint so haunting that it nearly throws Taeyong off guard. 

 

He ignores the insult, and instead pushes Ten further. “And what did he say about you?” 

 

Ten looks away, fingers curling into a fist, clenching as he refuses to respond. 

 

“Ten, what did he say? Hmm? What did he say that had you so angry?” 

 

Still, no response. 

 

Taeyong tries to push all the buttons, but he apparently hit on the most touchy nerve, and before he knows it, he is slammed against the bookshelf, a hand on his neck, the darkest eyes looking straight into his soul, piercing through his skin. It’s a good thing Taeyong was smart enough to have the boy leave his wand on his desk, else, who knows what would happen? 

 

The fingers dig into his skin, and the skeleton of his hand, is nearly crushing Taeyong’s windpipe. Still, he practices what he is taught, and his face remains calm and unmovable, not the least afraid. 

 

Usually, his victims would be wailing and screaming, flailing their arms at this point, but his tutor does not. He holds his gaze with calm confidence, and perhaps because of his Hufflepuff upbringing, he deals with him with unprecedented, quiet confidence. Not the loud one, like most Gryffindors have; this one requires a strength from within. 

 

“Do  _ not _ , mention my mother, in front of me.” Ten hisses under his breath as he loosens a little of his grip, though not too much, holding Taeyong very much a hostage. 

 

“So he did say something about her.” Taeyong muses, taunting and Ten leans in, far too close for Taeyong’s liking, and his face turns away as Ten’s lips ghost over his jawline, sending his heart into overdrive. 

 

“He did. And he said she deserved to die.” He leans back on his heels, his hand dropping as he holds Taeyong back against the books, by his shoulder. “So tell me, why shouldn’t I be angry? Why shouldn’t I punch him?” 

 

“......” Taeyong remains quiet for a moment as he rubs his neck, wincing as it comes into contact with some tender parts. His eyes lift to lock with Ten’s, and for a brief moment, he thinks he sees some concern in them, before the sly arrogance comes swooping back.

 

“You have every right to be angry.” Taeyong says gently, hands removing Ten’s grip on him, as he walks towards the desk, tilting his head as he tries to get some feeling back into his neck. “But that doesn’t mean you display your anger in such plebeian way.”

 

“Rather ironic for a plebeian to say that, don’t you think?” Ten taunts, following after Taeyong. He could have very well stayed at where he was, but the tutor is like a magnet, and he trails after him wherever he goes. 

 

“I don’t think he just spoke about your mother, did he?” Taeyong says smoothly, crossing his arms as he leans against the table, tapping for Ten to take his seat. 

 

Ten plops down on his chair, and his feet shake as he props his leg over the other casually, raising his eyebrows as he rests his head on his palm, spinning in his chair, ignoring the question. 

 

“He said that you were useless, did he not? That you could do nothing about your mother’s death.” The chair halts, and thankfully he had his auror training, and just slips out of the way as Ten casts a Sectumsempra on him, the cupboard behind Taeyong holding a slash line. 

 

“Expelliarmus” Taeyong says under his breath, and his anger must have forced Ten to not think quite strategically, and his wand flies and crashes out of the window in an instant, shared panting as he is caught in close distance with his tutor, huffing as his heart attempts to calm down from the adrenaline rush. 

 

“Do not do that again. Let us, as much as possible, not hurt each other.” Taeyong suggests, with a sickly honey sweet tone, as he grabs Ten’s collar, the younger’s resolute undying as he stares back, his jaw clenched. 

 

“Do not do that again, if you would like me to teach you, how to take revenge. In a better way, rather than your fists and useless spells.” Taeyong says more calmly, with little malice and over exaggerated sweetness, dusting his own cloaks. 

 

“Think about my proposition, my Prince.” Taeyong calls, as he turns his heel. “I will see you tomorrow. Goodbye.” He knows Ten has much to consider, including his pride, and he allows the other to mull over the idea. 

  
  


Ten watches his tutor go through the window, bending over as he collects the broken pieces of his wand, his cloak flowing and spread around him, the brightest yellow outlining his black cloak. 

 

The tutor raises his head, just to catch Ten turning around at the speed of light, and he smiles a little to himself. There is still some child like innocence in the boy after all. Not all, is lost. 

  
  
  
  


That night, Ten tosses and turns in his bed, his sheets tangling as his hair is pressed in locks as sweat seeps and drenches them. 

  
  


He is in the stand again, next to his father, glowering in anger as the man places a hand on his shoulder, the audacity of him to cover the boy’s eyes as he gives the command. The knife slides, sharp and of beautiful craftsmanship, but it loses it beauty to Ten, as it is drenched in the crimson blood of his mother. 

 

He is covered in darkness, head whipping around as he grows afraid, fear coursing through his veins as a familiar smile flashes around him, like chomping teeth ready to gobble him up. He calls for his mother’s name, but it echoes in the silence, and he feels small, so very small. 

 

And yet, he is walking, his feet leading him to seemingly nowhere, as if drawn by a magnet. And there is light at the edge of a tunnel, a gatekeeper nearly asleep, but he awakes as Ten draws near. The gate is shut tight, but the other side is so blindingly bright, and he can’t resist the urge to not reach for it. 

 

But he is stopped. 

 

Because he has no ticket. No matter how much he begs for the gatekeeper to let him in, the gatekeeper refuses his entry. His tears drench the place, and it fills the tunnel, carrying him in the rushing waves, lapping all around him as he stays rooted to the spot, and the salty drops extinguishing the light on the other side. 

 

Then, a little boat appears, a flicker of a lamp, a hand outstretched to him, pulling him up, lifting him, offering a ticket. The ticket the gatekeeper asked for, the ticket to reach the other side. The other end of the tunnel begins to regain its glow as Ten stares at the slip of paper, and carefully accepts it.

 

And he lifts his face, wanting to thank the person, and it’s a familiar one. Sharp and soft features, a perfect balance. Silver rimmed glasses. The calm, unwavering gaze. His hands reach out to touch the person, but he misses, and the image dissipates. 

  
  
  
  


Ten jolts awake, panting as he watches the room spin and then settle, clutching his head as a headache comes on. Foreign fingers are touching his cheeks, and he jerks at the touch, eyes wide with fear and shock, only to met with the same, calm, unwavering gaze, now soft brown as they reflect the morning glow. 

 

He doesn’t know why he sinks into Taeyong’s embrace, but perhaps it is the image of the hand outstretched, offering him the ticket, that pulls him into Taeyong’s arms, as the elder cards through his wet hair, wiping his moist cheeks, whispering gentle words that make no sense. 

  
  


“Please give me the ticket.” Ten murmurs into Taeyong’s chest, his voice small, like a child. 

 

“Please teach me, all that you have.” The calmness, the quiet confidence, the peacefulness. He wants to learn everything, Taeyong has for him. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back with another chapter!! thankyou for your kudos and comments last chapter!! enjoy this short chapter :)

**_CHAPTER_ 2: _IN_**

  


“The first thing you must understand, my Prince, is that your fists, and your spells, used in the wrong way, will never get you anywhere.” Taeyong says as he walks around the table, Ten’s head spinning.

 

“Can you stop circling me like that? Feels as if I’m being interrogated or something.”

 

“Second,” Taeyong continues, ignoring him, “we shall lay some ground rules here. You will listen to what I say, at all times. No arguments, no complaints. Is that clear?” Taeyong looks at him pointedly, and Ten huffs, but grudgingly agrees.

 

“Third, how do you think you can get revenge for your mother? Make her death worth it?” Taeyong asks, leaning over the desk, as he watches Ten’s face contort with pain.

 

He wishes he didn’t need to be so direct, but the pain awakens something so passionate in Ten, it is fascinating to watch, and incredibly useful, and Taeyong had better use it to his advantage.

 

“Clap back at my stupid father?”

 

Taeyong sighs as he draws back, picking a book from his bag, sliding it across to Ten, as it reads ‘the History of the Society’.

 

“Why was your mother executed?” Taeyong asks, carefully. He wants Ten to come to the conclusion himself, and not forced upon him.

 

“Because she was of Tainted blood.” Ten says forlornly, almost spitting the word out, like he detests the term. Taeyong tries not to wince at the way he says it, nodding.

 

“So, let’s try again. What should you do to take revenge for your mother?”

 

Ten thinks for a moment, his brows furrowing as he tries to think of a logical answer. But his idea is way out of boundaries and can never possibly happen; because it would mean tearing down everything he has ever known of. But the way Taeyong is looking at him, he eventually spills what he thinks.

 

“Get rid of the system?” Ten says uneasily, suddenly uncomfortable at the idea. After all, he is at the head of the hierarchy; he doesn’t necessarily think the system is all that bad, when he receives the benefits of it.

  


“And how will you do that? No need to answer,” Taeyong cuts Ten’s words off, quite liking the answer, though it lacks specificity, “I have it for you.” He says grandly, as he unties the scroll, and the list unravels itself.

 

Ten glares at the list like it is the more offensive thing in the world, then looks at Taeyong, who only raises his eyebrows, as if to say ‘what?’

 

“You’re not expecting me to follow all of these rules, are you?” Ten narrows his eyes as he stares at the list again. Listening in class, having regular tests set by Taeyong, actually studying, quit bullying, etc, etc, etc…...these are all things he has never done before, and would never agree to, and yet, he finds himself somehow agreeing to it, taking Taeyong’s grin as a little reward to himself.

 

♔

 

It certainly isn’t easy, to throw all his old habits out of the window just like that. The moment he steps into school, some dumb first year with short legs is blocking up his path, and he has half the mind to simply kick the child out of the way, but instead, does as he is taught, and tries to count to ten.

 

That doesn’t stop him from entering the headmaster’s office, with a bruised first year next to him, bawling his eyes out, Taeyong sighing as his eyes cut through Ten, and for the first time, shame courses through the year eight.

 

So, he attempts to try harder.

 

The studying part, turns out easier than expected. With his brilliant mind and eye for detail, he is quick to catch up on his studies, and surprises everyone as he mixes the ingredients for a particular hazardous potion, his one, the only one remaining intact, while his classmates’ hair are all fried as theirs explode.

 

Yuta, was certainly not joking, when he had commented on the boy’s talent.

  


And it seems, Taeyong muses, that the boy has more than one talent, as he watches a cat, locally known to be aloof and hates the mere presence of humans, muggles and wizards alike, sleep in Ten’s lap as Slytherin takes a nap in one of the benches behind the school.

 

Taeyong is certainly not pleased with the fact that Ten had skipped his classes _yet_ again, but cannot deny his happiness as Ten shows aptitude, and correctly excels in one of the classes he loves as well: Creature Care.

 

While no one dared to touch the Norwegian Ridgeback, Ten had coaxed the sweetheart into licking his palm, and even possibly saddling it, if not for Hagrid’s intervention.

 

Everyone was dead jealous of him, and while Ten could have been arrogant about it, using his talent to his advantage for pranks, his one hundred and eighty degree turn in attitude, as he teaches his classmates, and juniors, how to coax the creatures, shocks everyone.

 

But it was not their half hearted praises that were his reward, but the smile on Taeyong’s face, that could only mean: he is proud. That, tasted sweeter, than anything else.

  
  


Ten doesn’t hate studying, but he especially hates it, when Taeyong piles him with millions of books that don’t have any relevance to his syllabus.

 

He narrows his eyes as Taeyong drops another book on to his pile, and Taeyong doesn’t spare a glance at him, before reasoning, “If you want to be a Prince that creates a change, I suggest you do not glare at me as you do, and instead focus on memorising all the dynasties, by this week.” 

  
“This week? There is no way.” Ten crosses his arms in defiance, and Taeyong raises his eyebrows. “Rule number one-”

 

“Do not question your tutor, blah blah blah, _okay,_ I get it, but don’t you think this is to much?”

 

“No.” Taeyong’s reply is curt and flat, with no hint of a joke, as he takes his seat next to Ten.

  


Ten watches the sun reflect it’s rays on his tutor’s clear skin, the perfect slope of the nose, the scar at the edge of his eyes. _How can anyone’s eyelashes be so long?_ He wonders, as they nearly touch his glasses, as his eyes are downcast, scanning through a book.

 

His hair is styled and combed up, and he had changed his cloak to a shorter one, just till his elbows, as the days grow warmer. Ten places his hand on his neck as he feels his skin warm under his touch, and wonders what it is like to be that handsome.

 

Before he knows it, a thud sounds as the book comes into contact with his head, and he winces as he glares at Taeyong, who pretends he didn’t do anything, reopening his book as he continues reading the words.

 

“Pay attention, my Prince. If you don’t finish your test in an hour, I can guarantee that your stack will be much, _much_ higher.”

 

Ten groans in response as he rolls his eyes, mumbling curses under his breath as turns back to his paper.

 

He misses the way Taeyong’s mouth twitches, as he presses his lips into a hardline, trying hard to contain his laughter, at the endearment, of the young prince.

  
  


“Woah, fancy seeing _you_ studying, Ten.” Jaehyun’s voice calls through the room, and Ten lifts his head, eyes shining, as if a saviour had arrived.

 

“Jaehyun, by Merlin, _please_ save me.” He whines as he wraps his arms around Jaehyun in a tight embrace, glaring as Johnny follows behind him.

 

“What is this Tainted doing here?” He grits through his teeth, without much thought, and while Johnny barely flinches, Taeyong’s eyes darken, just a tad bit, though unnoticed, by any in the room.

  


“Prince Jung.” Taeyong greets, nonetheless, nodding to Johnny as he acknowledges his presence.

 

His eyes narrow at the way Ten’s feet just shift a little, and as expected, the Slytherin tries to take off running, only to be slammed into his seat as Taeyong casts an Incarcerous on him, mumbling profanities under his breath as he scowls at his tied body, his hands conveniently freed.

 

Taeyong nods at the paper on the table, and Ten huffs in unbelief as he carries on with his work, whining his way through.

 

“It is nice seeing you here, your Highness.” Taeyong bows, and ignores the way Ten mimics him, hitting his head lightly with his book, Ten snapping his head up to glare at him, only to shrink away at the firm gaze Taeyong gives him.

 

“Huh.” Jaehyun breathes out, as he watches the interaction, pulling a chair for himself, while Johnny stands near him.

 

“You must be one of a kind, Mr. Lee,” Jaehyun says, as they all watch Ten breeze through his paper, nearly done as the forty minute mark strikes. “No one has ever tamed Ten like this.” He muses, as he recalls the frustrated Keepers leaving one by one, secretly snickering as younger Ten poked his head out of door, sending Jaehyun a wink.

 

“Is that so,” Taeyong says politely, glancing up as the Slytherin waves his paper in exasperation, Taeyong gliding as he takes it from him, removing the spell as he sets him free.

 

“Did you have to do that?” Ten asks, as he watches Taeyong mark his work, interested to see how well he would score.

 

“Did you have to run away?” Taeyong asks back in retort, and Ten mumbles a ‘fair point’, as a red cross is written over his words.

 

“What?” He shouts in indignation, and smiles sheepishly as Taeyong frowns at his loud voice. “We shall work on your specificity of your answers, my Prince, once you and Prince Jung have talked to each other.”

 

Ten rolls his eyes, but graciously walks over to Jaehyun, mirroring the frown on Jaehyun’s face. “What?” He asks, again, and Jaehyun shakes his head, trying to conceal his smile.

 

“Nothing. It just seems to me,” Jaehyun peers behind him, watching the tutor continue to mark his work, “that you are different.”

 

“Different? Nah, that’s bullshit.” Ten replies, waving dramatically and dismissively, stuffing a pastry into his mouth. Taeyong had told him to cut down on sweet treats for his health’s sake, but Ten never listens.

 

“Language, your Highness.” Taeyong calls from behind them, and he huffs, sticking out his tongue in response, though he does slip out an apology, as he guides Jaehyun out of the room, and down to the courtyard, to speak in private.

 

♔

 

“Since when did you let yourself be wrapped around someone else’s finger?” Jaehyun asks, as he watches Ten skids pebbles across their small lake, a light breeze blowing through both their hairs, a comfortable cool, as compared to the warmth of the beating sun rays.

 

“I am _not_ wrapped around his finger.” Ten defends, throwing yet another stone across the surface of the water.

 

“Hmm.” Jaehyun hums thoughtfully, obviously thinking otherwise, while Ten rolls his eyes, as he picks another pebble, skidding it across the surface successfully, with one, two, three, _four_ skips. A proud smirk emerges on his features.   


“He is good for you.” Jaehyun comments, after a moment of silence, watching Ten turn to face him, his neck slightly flushed.

 

“What? You’re saying as if we are lovers.”

 

“That’s…...not what I meant. I meant that he is good for you, because he is giving me back, the Ten I know. The Ten who is kind enough to help others, who cares about his studies, who doesn’t reply everything with his fists. Or tries to, at least.”

 

Ten just turns away, biting his lips, wishing his heart didn’t hurt so much at those words. Being around Taeyong means he got softer too; he gets his heartstrings pulled too easily, and too frequently.

 

“......Why did you think I assumed you two were lovers?” Jaehyun asks, and Ten hates the mischief filtering through those words. He hates how _Ravenclaw_ Jaehyun is being right now; intelligence overflowing as he picks at the smallest of details.

 

Ten doesn’t answer, and bites on the inside of his cheek, as Jaehyun taunts at him. “Looks like our baby Slytherin prince, is having a little crush now, isn’t he?”

 

Ten tries to reason that Jaehyun deserves the punch to his arm, though he can’t answer to Taeyong, as the tutor eyes the redness on the bicep, Jaehyun waving his hands to disippitate the tension, and to save his best friend of possible embarrassment.

♔

 

“Ten!” Two younger boys run as they crash into the Prince, Jaehyun laughing as they then turn their attention to him, Johnny ruffling their heads as they stare at the older trio with such reverence, eyes shining with admiration as their parents follow after, greeting them.

 

Taeyong feels as if he is intruding into some intimate family gathering, stiff as he greets the parents formally, them not even sparing him a glance as they make their way to the throne room.

 

“Hendery and Yangyang. Their parents are aristocrats from the Slytherins.” Ten introduces them to Taeyong and he gives them a bow as he greets them respectfully, smiling as they care not for formalities, swinging their arms around him, Taeyong patting their backs awkwardly.

  
  


Taeyong wonders if Ten always had this side of him. This soft side. He thought it was only reserved for animals, but seeing the way he sits cross legged on the floor with the two young ones, reading some stories, animating wildly, their eyes shining as they hang unto his every word, clinging onto him like a koala, perhaps this side has an application to humans as well.

 

They stay over for the night, Hendery dozing off in Ten’s arms, while Yangyang’s head is snuggled into his lap, and Ten strokes their hair carefully and quietly. Taeyong never knew Ten’s voice could be so sweet, as he hums gentle melodies.

 

Jaehyun and Johnny had gone home for dinner, exhausted from playing with the children, and yet, Ten seems less drained, and in fact energised, when he was with them, climbing trees, playing catch, telling them the same story over and over again as they settle down on the carpet, kicking their legs as they roll about, Ten not minding the hyper energy _at all_.

  


“Why do you pretend not to be kind?” Taeyong asks, abruptly, and Ten’s head snaps up at the sudden question. His eyes don’t hold a single malice, as he frowns and wonders what Taeyong is talking about.

 

“Nevermind.” Taeyong mumbles under his breath, standing up as he leaves the room, his white gloves with their yellow rim, shining under the moonlight.

 

The details of embroidered sunflower onto his black, short cloak, illuminate under the rays of the celestial beings, and this is not the first time Ten envies him for his tutor’s good looks.

 

“Sweet dreams, Prince Ten.” He whispers, as he slips out, a sudden lonely chill running through Ten as his head sinks into the soft pillow, mind swimming with images of sunflowers, warmth, the small, gentle, unwavering smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty)  
> and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	3. FACT

**_CHAPTER_ 3: _FACT_**

 

“Remind me, why do I have to do this, again?” Ten asks as he slumps down on the desk, eyes rolling as he huffs, exhausted. He was pretty much talking to a wall by now, Taeyong now bothering with his complaints as he continues to read, occasionally annotating. 

 

But this time, Taeyong actually answers him, and he nearly jumps at the voice, that can only remind him of the engulfing warmth of feet sinking into sand. 

 

“Because, the Council meeting is tomorrow, and by the King’s grace, you are attending. Don’t you think you should turn up prepared, with at least the names of the other royalties, as well as their background and achievements?” Taeyong questions, without raising his head from his book, as he underlines another statement. 

 

“What are you busy with?” Ten ignores him and chirps, leaning over to see the scribblings on Taeyong’s book. 

 

“You take the art culture major?” Ten asks, frowning as he is halfway onto Taeyong’s lap, the other frowning at the proximity, moving away as Ten falls through the gap between their chairs, groaning as he hits the floor. 

 

“No. I read this because I am interested.” 

 

“You mean you do this for  _ fun _ ?” Ten says, flabbergasted as he stares at the other, jaw dropping at the audacity of it. 

 

“Is there a problem?” Taeyong asks as he tilts his head, frowning, as if that was the most unreasonable question in the world. 

 

“No.” Ten mutters under his breath, never getting his head around the fact that Taeyong studies for pleasure and for the quenching of the thirst of knowledge. 

 

He can never quite understand, whenever Taeyong reprimands him, that he should cherish his educational opportunities. Why should he cherish them? It’s not like they are rare or scarce. Everyone has access to them. Or so he thinks, based on his privileged background. 

  
  


“I’m bored, Yongie hyung.” Ten whines. They have become close to each other in the past two months, and Ten has been calling his tutor the affectionate nickname, mainly because he likes the way a shade of pink dusts over the Hufflepuff’s cheeks whenever he hears it. 

 

“Well, why don’t-” Taeyong stops mid-sentence as an owl is sent in by one of the servants, and he stands abruptly. 

 

“Where are you going?” Ten calls after him, as his tutor rushes to pack his belongings. 

 

“My mother is sick. The doctor wants me to see her.” _ For the last time _ , but he can’t bear to say those words himself. 

 

“Can I go with you?” Ten asks, eyes nearly pleading. He’s been cooped up in his bedroom for far too long; he wants to go out for some fresh air. 

 

“......If you want to.” Taeyong mumbles, thinking that perhaps, a trip downtown will do the spoilt royal some good. 

  
  
  


All colours fill the streets as they zip through the towns in their broomsticks, the emerald embedded in Ten’s broomstick, gleaming under the sunlight, catching the attention of the commoners below, as they wonder, why a royal would be out in the Tainted neighbourhoods. 

 

Strictly speaking, the royals can travel wherever they want, but ever since the new Council had come to power, the Pures and Tainteds are so segregated, that most Pures refuse to set foot into the Tainted populated areas, believing that when they do, their blood will too, become Tainted. It is superstition and silly belief, but it doesn’t stop the Pures from preventing their children from entering Tainted areas. 

  
  


Taeyong dives down, and Ten follows after, gritting at the mere speed and rush of it all, wondering if Taeyong was once a Quidditch player. They halt at a doorstep, and Ten almost wants to laugh after the adrenaline rush, but the scene before him, stops his chuckles, halting them at the tip of his lips, dissolving into winces and flinches. 

 

The place is filthy as anything, the streets lie with a layer of grim. The houses are dreary, with wood shelters tearing at the edges and sharp corners poking at its residents. The gloomy sky doesn’t add much life to the place, as the people’s faces reflect the depressive state. 

 

Ten winces as he steps into a mud puddle, dirtying his forest green boots, making a mental note to clean it later, before his father sees it and finds out about their little adventure. That, would be a tragedy in itself. 

 

Taeyong watches Ten struggle as he tries to weave his way through the potholes, and sighs as he takes him by the wrist, pulling him into his arms, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, protecting him from the stares the people are giving him. If he feels the rising heat of Ten’s body, he certainly doesn’t comment. 

 

His eyebrows are furrowed, and his eyes are heavy with grief; his mouth twisted and he is chewing the inside of his cheek, his gloved fingers tapping nervously on Ten’s shoulder. 

 

He swears it is the supposed kindness in him, that makes him pry the fingers off his shoulder, slipping his bare ones with Taeyong’s giving him a light squeeze. The shock is apparent, but quickly masked, as Taeyong gives him a small smile, before it falls into the forlorn hardline of the lips. 

  
  


“Dr. Kim,” Taeyong greets, and Doyoung nods at the arrival of his patient’s son. They have been friends for a couple of years, and when Taeyong had gone to serve at the Slytherins, Doyoung had agreed to take care of his mother. 

 

But Fate had other plans for the old lady, and Doyoung deeply apologises to Taeyong as he kneels near the cold body, his head bowed. He is too late, way too late. 

 

He tries to take deep breaths, his fingers, warm from Ten’s, now grow cold as they touch her dead ones, and for the first time in a long while, a single tear slides down his face, and drips onto the floor, Doyoung immediately reaching to squeeze his shoulders, whispering yet another apology. 

 

They stay like that for a few minutes, an allowance of grief, before Taeyong gathers his broken pieces again. 

 

Ten watches Taeyong speak to Doyoung in low voices, arranging the funeral details and the like. He remembers to get a doctor’s note to give the King, to excuse his absence, head hung as he watches Doyoung write, fingers clasped as he squeezes them hard, trying hard to not break down yet again. 

 

Ten doesn’t quite know how to comfort the elder, as they walk in silence to collect their brooms and fly back home. He can see the way Taeyong is gnawing at his bottom lip, breaking the skin as it becomes swollen and bloody, his tongue swiping over it, metallic taste in his mouth. 

 

A little girl runs up to him just as they cross the street, her clothes muddy and soaking wet, as she clings onto Taeyong, smiling amicably as she tells him how much she misses him, and how he’s been bad; he never visits nowadays. 

 

Taeyong picks her up, smiling as he presses a kiss on her forehead, and he makes a different turn, into narrower alleyways, and they have to duck to avoid slamming into people’s wet clothing. 

 

He can see people looking out of their windows, though their faces are well concealed behind the shadows, eyes watching the way Taeyong has a tight hold on his wrist, as he chatters softly with the little girl, weaving his way through like he knows the place like the back of his hand. 

 

“Where are we?” Ten asks, and Taeyong sets the girl down, fingers curling around his wrist to pull him closer to him. 

 

“The poorest parts of my town. The lowest ranks of the Tainted gather here, because no one wants them around. My mother used to come every week.” The words are choked out as they reach the end, and Taeyong swallows hard as he averts his eyes, turning away to greet an old man, and a couple of others as they emerge from their homes. 

 

“Taeyong! How long has it been?” The old man says amicably, hunching over his walking stick as Taeyong gives him a hug, smiles a little strained, but still there. They begin to chat, the elders and him, until they take in the person behind him, and the chatter halts. 

 

By this time, people from around the area have gathered, and they were not the least interested in their elders; they see them everyday. They were more interested in the pure green cloak, the emerald studded wand, the high nose bridge and almond shaped eyes that hold a green shift under the dark currents; the way the man stood stiff, and out of place. 

 

“ _ What _ is that thing?” The old man says, curt, as he peers at Ten through his half broken glasses. Ten starts at the question, and narrows his eyes at the objectification, but says nothing. He can read most situations, usually he doesn’t act in accordance to the right reaction, but here, something about the atmosphere makes his hair rise, and he’d better stay quiet. 

 

Taeyong tenses at the question as well, though he tries to smooth his nervousness, and replies evenly, “He is the royal I am currently tutoring.” 

 

“Why is a  _ Pure _ here, in the Tainted areas? We could all be killed, you know, Taeyong. You know that all too well.” The old man replies, smiling as he hits a nerve, and Taeyong clenches his jaw. 

 

Ten wonders what he means: why would Taeyong know it too well? He thinks that considering the fact that Taeyong is well-versed in various areas, including that of the law, maybe that’s why the haggard man had said that. But the sharpness of the words, and the way Taeyong flinched, as if slapped, has him thinking otherwise. 

 

The two stare and glare at each other for a good two minutes; the sharpness and edge in their eyes, as well as the contemplation of retortion, raises the tension present in the air, as you can almost hear a pin drop, not a single person saying a word as they watch the events unfold carefully, like a pack of hyenas. 

 

Finally, the old man averts his eyes, and tells Taeyong tiredly, “Get out of here.”

 

The fire in him, extinguished, the people also start breathing a little easier, as they turn away, uninterested. “Go back to wherever you came from. There is nothing here for you, not anymore.” 

 

“Elder, I-” 

 

“I don’t think I repeat myself twice.” The man snaps Taeyong, turning around, his torn and muddied cloak whipping with his motion. 

 

He then drops his facade of fierceness, and softens considerably. “You know it, Yongie. There is nothing here. There,” he nods his head towards Ten, “You will be better off. Go.” 

 

Fingers curl into fists that clench, and Taeyong is visibly shaking at the words as he glares at the ground, the elders departing from him, not a single one looking back. He understands what they are saying; life is a straight road here: if you manage not to die of malnutrition as a child, you would die anyway, in the mines of precious gems, or at the mercy of the Pures, or of final starvation. There is nothing here, but hopelessness and darkness. 

 

It’s just…...this place had been his home, his family, for the early parts of his life. A place he can always come back to, received with open arms. At the schools and workplaces, class divisions run deep, and not everyone looks at him with the acceptance and love the people here give. It will be hard to let go, he decides, but eventually, he will have to. 

 

Because that old man is right. In the end, there will be nothing here for him, but grief and mourning.

  
  


“Let’s go.” He tells Ten, who he has ignored for most of the time, fingers sliding with the other’s with little thought, as he pulls him through the maze of alleys and narrow ways, trying hard to bite back the tears that blur his vision. 

 

Ten doesn’t quite notice where they are going; it’s a mess anyways, he will never remember where they had gone, and how they got there. Only someone living here all their lives, could possibly know. 

 

What he does remember however, is the sights that blur around him. Taeyong is moving at an incredibly fast pace, and though the buildings are nothing but a blend of things, it is the people he passes by, hanging from their window sills, trudging along the streets, bodies he had to skip over to avoid hitting them, that are memorable. 

 

Gaunt cheeks, hollow eyes that scream desperation, smiles on children’s faces that never quite reach the eyes as they lose their light. He realises the meaning of the Elder, as he leans forward, the wind blowing through his locks as they fly home, that there is no hope here, only spiralling despair, and it is suffocating. 

 

♔

 

It stings. The cheek reddens the outline of the hand, and Taeyong barely holds it together as he adjusts his glasses to see clearly. He blinks away the first few tears, before finally having the courage to stand, though not enough bravery, to look the King in his eye. 

 

Ten is screaming at his father, about what, Taeyong doesn’t really know, besides the fact that they were met with guards at the entrance, brought to the throne room, and then the rest is history. 

 

He should have known. The Pures hate their own to be amidst the Tainted. 

 

The shouts are blurring past his ears as he studies the geometrical shapes on the floor, thankful that Ten is doing the talking for him. He doesn’t think he can croak out a word without breaking down. He wonders, for a brief moment, whether he will be fired, because if he is, he really has nowhere to go. Maybe Yuta would take him in, but Merlin knows where the other is. 

 

The next thing he hears, is the resigned sigh of the King, a brief glance at the tired face, with dagger eyes that have Taeyong flinching, before he is pulled out of the throne room, down the hallways. He doesn’t register the place much; the hallways all look the same; only the gossiping whispers and the pitiful glances, imprint in his brain. 

 

He starts out of his thoughts as freezing cold is pressed against his cheek, his eyes raising above the floor for the first time, as they fall on Ten. The younger is focused, frowning as he touches the nearly swollen cheek, trying to be as gentle as possible as he ices it, but Taeyong still winces anyway. 

 

“It’s okay.” Taeyong mumbles, trying to take the ice pack away to do it himself, but Ten just swats his hands away, the fierce glare so fiery, it has Taeyong shrinking back into the bed, the  _ royal’s _ bed. 

 

He jolts as he hits the pillows, eyes wide at his location. “I…...don’t think it’s a good idea that I’m on your bed, your Highness.” Taeyong says, a painful reminder on his cheek. Ten dismisses him, making a disgruntled sound, pushing him back into the sheets. 

 

“You sure talk a hell lot for a injured person.” Ten reprimands, as he takes off the ice pack, and his nimble fingers smooth cooling lotion over the subsiding area. 

  
  


“I’m sorry about my father.” He whispers, after a moment, of him just looking at Taeyong, and Taeyong just looking at him. The sun was setting, and it brought a romantic orange glow into the room. It would be nice, if both of them were less heartbroken and injured. 

 

“I’m sorry about your mum, too.” He adds, after a while, looking away to stare at his hands, clasping and unclasping. Taeyong shuts his eyes as he leans back into the soft pillows, pillows softer than anything he has ever touched. 

 

“Mmhmm. It’s okay.” Taeyong breathes out, though clearly it isn’t, but he’s not going to admit it. 

 

“If you don’t mind me asking…...what was she suffering of?” Ten asks, uneasily, startled at the soft chuckle from the other.    
  


“What?” He says indignantly, annoyed that Taeyong is breathlessly laughing at him, wincing at the pain, that has Ten rolling his eyes, the corner of his mouth twitching upwards. 

 

“Since when did you ask for permission to  _ ask _ ?” Taeyong says fondly, eyes twinkling, and the corners of Ten’s mouth lift and curl into a genuine smile. He shrugs as they share their quiet laughter, peace in their little safehouse, away from the world, its ugliness and cruelty, just the two of them, Ten and Taeyong, Taeyong and Ten — no Tainted or Pure, no royal or tutor. 

 

Equals.

 

♔

 

Taeyong vaguely registers something shifting, and he peeks an eye open, to frown at the unfamiliar ceiling. It lacks holes, and instead is beautiful marble with emeralds twinkling under the moonlight. 

 

“You’re awake?” A little panic is in the person’s voice, and Taeyong tilts his head, only to regret it, as he turns away, faster than lightning, heat rising from his neck to his cheeks, at the sheer millimeter distance he and Ten were from each other. 

 

“......” He doesn’t reply as he swallows his panic, a dull ache settling in his chest as he remembers the events of yesterday. He groans as he sits up, pressing the heel of his palm against his forehead, creases forming on his forehead, eyes squeezed shut. 

 

“You okay? Need anything?” Ten asks, sitting up as well, concerned at the look on the other’s face. 

 

“......I’m sorry I fell asleep. I should go.” Taeyong says after a moment, collecting himself as he attempts to leave the comforting warmth of the sheets, only to be pulled back down, Ten nuzzling his face into his neck, his breath fanning over Taeyong’s collarbones, having the elder shivering at the proximity. 

 

“Awh, come on. It’s fine. No one’s going to care. My father wouldn’t do anything, I promise you.” Ten persuades, and Taeyong, against all his trainings, relents and sinks into Ten’s embrace. 

 

“Hey,” Ten’s eyes open as he remembers the detail he has held onto, and wanted to ask, until his father came and ruined everything. “Where was the place we went to? As in…...what was it? I know you said it is the poorest part of your town…...but it looked a lot worse than that.” 

 

Taeyong chews on his bottom lip, before answering, shifting unconsciously, to lay his head on Ten’s chest, instead of the other way round. He feels small, for some reason, in the presence of the other. Maybe it is because of the way Ten stood up for him, back in the throne room. Maybe because of something else. 

 

Ten hums as he cards Taeyong’s hair, waiting patiently for an answer. He quite likes this position. He likes protecting things and people he love. 

 

“Those were the Tainted slums. They are of the lowest category; children of the exiled royals, children of half blood parents, the tainted of the Tainted. They tend to band together. They call it the Fringe, just a little outside the normal town, where supposedly, the people there are less Tainted than the rest.” Taeyong explains, almost monotonously, as his eyes trace the outline of Ten’s neck, legs tangling with the younger’s. It’s just one night. It should be fine, right? 

 

Ten hums at the information, letting it sink in. 

 

“They aren’t any different from us, you know.” Taeyong says abruptly, pent up frustrations in his chest. “They are the same. They are people too. Just because their blood isn’t…...as pure as others, doesn’t mean they are any less deserving. They don’t have access to healthcare, or even schooling. It’s terrible.” Taeyong ends quietly, biting his bottom lip, regretting his words that shouldn’t be said to a royal. 

 

But Ten only holds him closer, humming assertively, as if agreeing, brushing his locks comfortingly. 

 

“My mother was…...my everything.” Taeyong chokes back a sob, as he shifts to bury his face into Ten’s neck, soaking the pale skin with salty tears. He doesn’t even know why he is saying all this; maybe it’s because he just hasn’t have anyone to turn to, to grieve with. 

 

“She was the only one there for me. For everything. She loved me. She loved me.” He doesn’t know if he is saying this to reassure himself or remind himself. Either way, Ten shushing him, fingers massaging the back of his neck, the lightest of kisses on his forehead, has him crying even harder. 

 

And he is supposed to be the tutor. The one who takes care of the younger, looks out for the younger, protects the younger. Now, it seems like the roles have reversed. 

 

“I…..didn’t have a father. He died. He was executed. And my mother…...she was so strong. She brought me up alone. She had no one. No one at all.” Taeyong’s voice breaks and he tries to take a deep breath, and calm his shaking shoulders. 

 

Eventually, the tears seal his eyes, and his breathing starts to deepen a little, sniffles subsiding, and Ten is dying to ask more questions, but watching the eyelashes clump with saltiness between them, fanning over the pale cheeks, the pout on the lips and the slumping of shoulders, he decides against it, instead, stroking his tutor’s hair, watching the moon glow, in the darkest of nights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> late update kadsjalhasjh sorry!!! find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty) and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


	4. Chapter 4

**_CHAPTER_ 4: _ALSO_**

 

Taeyong seems unfazed by the sheer wealth of the meeting; the table, marble and gold outlining it, running through it, beautifully shaped. The chairs, are all too, made of gold and silver, and some precious stones: sapphire, emerald, citrine and ruby, each the indicator of where each houses’ representative, should take their place. 

 

There is no head of the table, the four Kings and their respective staff, sit opposite each other, leaving the ends empty. Yet, while this is to represent some form of equality, it is useless, given that everyone knows, who holds the true power here. 

 

With their slyness and cunning nature, together with their manipulative ways to turn the people to them, the Slytherins hold the bulk of the riches, having invested in various industries of oil, education and broom making. 

 

The Ravenclaws come a close, but distinct, second, holding a set of smaller shares, but given that they are the prized ones for the Slytherins to use, they are no doubt, treated much better than the other two. 

 

Despite their supposed courageous culture, the Gryffindor lack the wit to overrule the Slytherins, and they have been boiling in rage, lava running under cool waters, their anger hidden in them as they plot their way to move up the hierarchy, though certainly, they have a long way to go. 

 

The Hufflepuffs, in favour for peace, therefore do not fight over their positions to power, and while they are not supposed to be grades for the Pures, they are often known as the least valuable, and least respected out of their kind. Many, have fallen into the Tainted category, rebuked by the royal court, for their overwhelming kindness, to those supposedly less worthy than them. 

 

So it is in this order, that the wizarding world is ruled. The Tainted are also sorted into their houses, different districts for the different houses. Usually, those towns with a rising green flag do better, but that is by no means undermining how much they suffer. 

 

“King Lucius, it’s been a long time.” The royal in blue robes, exclaims as he enters the room. Many would be taken by his affability, but the Slytherin saw through his friendly facade, and that’s why he liked him. Under the calm currents, a destructive storm resides. 

  
  


Taeyong, tries not to be in awe of the Ravenclaw’s dressing. 

 

The longest cloak, with white peacock feathers lining the cuff of the neck, is satin blue, that glows under the lights, shining as it flows. Long sleeved crisp shirt is what all royals wear, but the sash over his vest is what tells him apart from the rest. The federal blue silk has been layered to be sturdy enough, and the pin that shines at where the sash ends on the hip, as it rounds at the waist, has the eagle symbol on it, crafted in gold, the eye of the bird, the bluest of sapphires. 

 

“......Lorcan.” The Slytherin returns the greeting, wrinkling his nose as the other nears to throw his arms around him, all grins and rosy cheeks, looking absolutely  _ delighted _ at the sight of the Slytherin. Taeyong wonders if  _ anyone _ has been  _ that _ enthusiastic of seeing the Green tyrant.

 

The other royals arrive, though less of a welcoming greeting, each dressed as fabulously and lavishly as the Ravenclaw, but Taeyong must admit, that the best dressed here, is again, the Slytherins. 

 

His master, the King: he doesn’t really care. But to see Ten, his face sharper than ever, his features accentuated as his eyelids hold a little green shimmer. Natural enough, not exactly flattering, but a small detail that makes him look all the more ethereal. It matches, the green shift in his eyes. 

 

Only royals have that; the shift in the eyes, the colour they give when their eyes gleam under the light; but few, know how to use it to their advantage, of establishing absolute superiority, and instill fear in those lower than them. Not surprisingly, the Slytherins know exactly how to do just that. It explains a lot. 

 

Ten is also wearing a long sleeved shirt, crisp and loose as they crease perfectly, giving him the lean and strong image. His shirt fits him nicely, highlighting the smooth curve of his shoulders, the way the collar lifts away to show off the prominent lines of the collarbones, the way the shirt slants inwards, to flatter his small waist. Taeyong tries not to ogle at the sight. 

 

He feels vaguely insecure, as he takes a glance around the table, to see the King’s sons all dressed equally fancifully. The royals like to eat before they speak, and thus the three course lunch is being served, when something catches his eyes. 

 

The way Ten is speaking to the Hufflepuff prince, Qian Kun, eyes forming crescents as the ends of them crease, compliments overflowing as he praises the snow white hair, in which Kun gives a blinding smile. 

 

Taeyong doesn’t recall seeing Ten so happy, or for that matter, complimenting anyone, and his heart just sinks a little as he takes a glimpse of himself in the mirror behind Kun, his hair dark brown, normal. Not flattering, not eye catching. Well, it’s what the Tainted have to deal with. They can’t afford the hair salon, after all.

 

Ten smiles as Jaehyun tells him something, lips a little too close to the ear for Taeyong’s liking, and his fists clench at the sight of it. Jaehyun himself, is dressed beautifully, his cloak, the ones that drape over the shoulders, flapping down to the elbows, the shoulder pads having little blue threads hanging for them, with gold intertwined with it. 

 

What really makes him choke, startling the table as he looks away to the ground, and apologises, is the way Lucas, the Gryffindor prince, is interacting with  _ his _ Slytherin prince. 

 

His fingers curl and clench into a fist as he watches the hand land on Ten’s thigh, as the four of them laugh at some nonsensical joke, finger brushing over the forest green fabric as he squeezes Ten’s thigh, hand running up, and down to the knee. 

 

The worst, is that Ten doesn’t seem to mind, the least, and Taeyong has the swallow down the unprecedented rage rising in him. 

  
  


He almost doesn’t register the shouts that start echoing in the room, his eyes fixated on the way Lucas is squeezing Ten’s thigh, the hand on his shoulder as he tries to calm the Slytherin down, the way Jaehyun’s hands are pulling at Ten’s collar, as if grabbing a kitten, the way Kun is staring at the prince helplessly. 

 

“How can you say that? They are wizards, humans too, Father!” Ten shouts, glaring as his fingers grip at the knife in his hand, his knuckles growing white, Jaehyun trying desperately to pry it from his hands. 

 

“You have grown too soft, my boy.” The King grits through his teeth, his eyes glinting. “They are not humans. They are  _ objects _ . They are the mere Tainted.” He hisses, spitting out the word, the servants, guards and tutors in the room, visibly tensing at the word. 

 

But they say nothing, because they know it is true. They have been objectified into nothing more than a commodity over the years, a trade that could be made for the service of the Pures and the royals. They are sold and haggled over in markets, given small rooms to sleep in, and work without any pay, for the simple reason that they do not have the right to receive one: because their blood is not pure enough. 

 

“They are  _ not _ mere objects.” Ten’s voice is low, soft. A sly snake ready to attack, does not approach noisily. It is a silent predator, the mere warning of it, the hisses of the leaves it slides over. 

 

“They have feelings, they are like us. They are not different from us. They deserve all this,” he gestures at the wealth and riches of the dining hall, “as much as we do. Or perhaps more. Because at least, they have a heart.” The words are cutting and sharp, and the King’s fist slam against the table as his eyes hold a sort of fire that can never be put out. 

 

“Ever since,” The King says, the smile on his face curling with evil and retort, fateful mischief underlying it, “You went out with your Hufflepuff tutor, you have become less and less of a Pure. He has brainwashed you, hasn’t he?” The voice is sickly sweet, as the King glances at Taeyong, who averts his eyes, cold sweat slipping down his forehead. 

  
  


“Lucius.” The voice is low and deep, and yet soothing, like the gentle waves on a beach, before a tsunami crashes. The Ravenclaw raises his eyes to meet that of the Slytherin’s, unfazed by the green blaze in the other’s. 

 

“He is, but a child. Is there a need to give such a low blow? Forgive him, and let us not waste our time on useless things.” His words are not up for debate, and the King has to take a deep breath to sit back down, clearing his throat, as if the outburst has never happened. 

 

“Go to your room, Prince Ten. You are excused from the meeting.” The King says, trying to keep his voice steady, and not trembling from anger, flinching as the door is slammed shut, and then opened and closed with a soft click, as Taeyong follows after Ten. 

  
  
  


Ten’s eyes are intense, a piercing gaze as his head snaps up. Taeyong looks back at him, with unbothered eyes, brown and gentle, and yet a warning under it. 

 

“ _ What _ , was that for? I stood up for you, and your race!” Ten exclaims as the side of his cheek burns from Taeyong’s slap, feeling his heart take most of the pain. 

 

“You are being  _ stupid _ . You do not show your cards to your opposing player. You keep them hidden. You are a Slytherin, are you not? And yet, the basic lesson of hiding behind a facade is difficult for you.” Taeyong stabs at Ten’s ego, turning away as he walks to the other end of the room, towards the door, huffing in anger and downheartedness.

 

He whips around, just in time to catch Ten’s wrist, his fist a millimeter from his glasses, tremouring as Ten’s eyes hold the same fire in his father’s. It is like the world stops for a moment, as he watches the blaze in Ten’s eyes slowly slip out, frowning as he watches Taeyong give him a disappointed look. 

 

His tutor averts his eyes, and drops his wrist, Ten himself, looking away, wondering why his heart aches at the sight of his tutor’s face, the silence in the room suddenly suffocating, as the door clicks softly, his tutor slipping away. 

  
  


He lies on the bed, arm over his eye, as he replays the events over and over again, wondering where he went wrong, why Taeyong was so disappointed in him. The slap hardly matters; what hurts the most, is the look on Taeyong’s face. The eyes, so sad as they droop, the mouth twisted downwards, crestfallen, as if it hurt Taeyong, that Ten had stood up for him. 

 

He sighs as he feels his skin moist, wiping away the tears hastily. Why is he crying? It shouldn’t matter. 

 

But it does. 

 

And it hurts more than it should. 

 

♔

 

He means to apologise, but he scratches out that idea, once he is piled on with tests, that he is a 100% sure Taeyong purposely made to torture him. 

 

He is now filled with resentment and annoyance, instead of the heart of apology he woke up with, as he groans at his history test. Why did people have to have such complicated names? 

 

He slides down, his body limp, his brain on fire, as he buries his face in his arm, hating how much brainwork this takes. 

 

His eyes vaguely open, as he peeks over his arm, watching the way Taeyong is calmly skimming through a book, his legs crossed, his glasses hanging on the nose bridge, the sun rays reflecting through the glasses, giving him a misty aura of untouchable grace and beauty. 

 

Ten groans again, wondering whether he will ever be properly angry at Taeyong; because one look at the perfectly sculpted face, he can hardly find it in himself to ignite a flame of fury. 

 

His thoughts are interrupted, his grumblings halted, as he realises he is staring into the same, warm, brown eyes. Eyes that resemble dark chocolate, warmth seeping through bodies; eyes that resembles a puppy’s, innocent and in need of protection; eyes that resemble steel, for its strength and its worth. 

 

His face flushes, heat rising and creeping up his neck as he sit bolt upright, wishing to wipe the growing smile on Taeyong’s face. 

 

The latter pushes up his glasses as Ten hurries to return to his work, wondering what the other was thinking so deeply about, that he didn’t even notice him staring at the other. 

 

Ten’s got beautiful eyes, he muses. They are doe like and pitch black, with the green shift. Sometimes it gleams into flames, but other times, it softens into moss, soft to the touch, easy to sink into. It is fascinating. 

 

“Let’s go for a walk.” The voice jolts Ten, jittery from their previous interaction. “W-what?” He stammers out, glancing at the tutor nervously. The other had uncrossed his legs and closed his book, wandering to the window as he peers at the sky. 

 

“The weather is good today.” Taeyong says, cryptically, hoping that Ten will fall for his excuse. This will not do. He had noticed the way Ten reacts to visuals. He is the type to find real life encounters, truthful life images, jarring. It will awaken something in the royal, he is sure. 

 

“Er…...okay. I should go and-” 

 

“No need to dress up. Go like this.” Taeyong says, turning his heel as he exits the room, and expectedly, he hears the taps of familiar footsteps trotting after him, close behind, doe eyes trained on him, burning through his skin.

 

♔

 

Ten is stricken. His face pale, his blood running cold, his eyes wide and welling with tears, his fingers trembling as they lace with Taeyong’s, instinctively caving into the elder, fingers grasping tight at his clothes. 

 

The people around him try to resist the urge to roll their eyes. These Pures, these royals. This is normal, do they not know? 

 

The haggling at the marketplace, as nobles raise the bid higher for a small boy: pale skin, unusual pitch black eyes with grey flakes. A good size, not too tall, not too fat, not too skinny, just right. He will make a good servant, his bidder claims, and with the slam of a hammer, he is sold for 2 sickles; a considerably high price for children that young. 

 

The streets are thick with grim and dirt, but it doesn’t stop beggars from dropping onto their knees, begging the passing royals for their money. Here in this town, the Pures don’t seem to mind that they are near the Tainted. It is like at a carnival; you see what you like, and you buy it, enjoying the feeling of superiority as you drop a knut or two into their broken wooden bowls.

 

Taeyong then gently leads him somewhere else, a little more humane. The streets here are cleaner; even the poor like to take pride in what they do. The houses however, are in a terrible state. Some, are lucky enough to have some zinc as a roof. Others, only have a wooden platform and a tree for their home; but they make the most of it. 

 

Some, understandably, send glares Ten’s way; but most, ignore the prejudices most Pures have against them, and greet them amicably as they enter the village, offering them some food. 

 

Credit has to go to Taeyong, for it is on his behalf that they shower such kindness. The long term and deep rooted relationships he has with them, certainly earns him some respect from the people, despite him mixing often with the Pures. 

 

Ten gapes at the bread that is settled into his lap. It is smeared with a thin layer of margarine, the entire bread covered in it, a generous amount. His teeth ache at how hard it is, and he tries not to retch at the tastelessness of the soup. 

 

He hears the words Taeyong and villagers share, as he tutor listens empathetically, nodding as he tries to find some ways to help them financially. He never, ever, throws money at them for free. They too, have a dignity that should be respected and protected. 

 

He gives them Doyoung and Yuta’s contacts, though he seriously doesn’t think them working with Yuta will do much good, but in desperate situations, beggars can’t be choosers, so he gives Yuta’s owl address. Hopefully, the two will accept some of them as colleagues or apprentices; they are good people who understand, after all. 

  
  
  


Ten tries not to shiver as he steps out of the hot shower, the images of what he had seen: the faces, the little boy, grey eyes wide as he is sold to a particular menacing looking Slytherin, the houses falling apart, flash past his eyes, once again. 

 

Taeyong watches him with careful eyes, as the other shuffles to the bed, sinking into it, before his eyes snap open at the thought of the hundreds of children, his age, that will be sleeping with no mattress, no pillow, no blanket. He tries not to cry, and Taeyong can see it clearly, as he turns the other way, shoulders shuddering. 

 

He bites his lip, and looks down at the records settled neatly on his lap. He doesn’t know if he should, but if he wants to make the experience as impactful as possible, he convinces himself as he stands and walks to the bed, he’d better. 

 

He sits on the bed, and hands Ten the records, the other lying on the bed, his chest pressed against the soft mattress, Taeyong facing the other way, his arms holding him up as he observes Ten’s reactions. 

 

Ten’s eyes are quick to scan the details. The amount of money spent on the dining hall, the golden chairs, the emeralds in the mines, the amount of finances going into their daily expenses for lavish food, their satin cloths, his education. 

 

A surge of anger has him crumpling the papers in a fit of unprecedented fury, and he throws them across the room, huffing as he storms to the window, hoping the light breeze can calm his palpitating heart and hot blood. 

 

Silence fills the space between him and Taeyong, as the tutor gathers and smooths the papers, pushing his glasses up, words not needed to convey his meaning of doing this. 

 

The weather no longer seems as blissful as it was, just hours before. 

♔

Ten gets over it pretty easily, as Taeyong had suspected. The experience may have been jarring, but surrounded with comfort and wealth 24/7, it is not easy to imprint the image in his brain, when it is often filled with golden chairs and sparkling diamonds. 

 

Hogwarts, the teachers and students have collectively decided, is no longer a nightmare. Ten is as calm as ever, and his change in attitude has a positive impact on most. He hasn’t lost his sharpness and wit, teasing others with his usual cutting humour, but he never goes far, and always apologises if he crosses the line. Fists are a rare sight, and the most he has done, is given Jaehyun a hard pat on the back, for a job well done, as top of their class for Potions. 

 

And yet, it is always difficult, to erase memories of seven and a half years, from the brains of his fellow students. 

 

He stands across the Reds and Yellows, arms crossed over his chest, fingers gripping tight at his long sleeved uniform as anger boils in him. It takes everything in him to not give them a hard punch into the face at their nonsense. 

 

He is lucky that he is relatively close to most of his team members, as they assert their authority over the Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs. More accepting than the other two houses, the Reds and Yellows have accepted Tainteds into their teams from a long time ago; while the Ravenclaw and Slytherin teams remain completely made out of Pures and royals. 

 

“Who are you to accuse us of cheating? You and your dirty blood are a hell more likely to do so, Tainted.” A boy, with green sash cutting across his chest, snaps at a Hufflepuff, who, surprisingly, doesn’t back down. 

 

“Don’t abuse your power, oh  _ mighty _ Pure. Just because your blood is supposedly flecked with gold, doesn’t mean you are incapable of cheating.” 

 

“I saw you, and him,” he points at Ten, “fiddling with something under your cloaks when you came in. And look what  _ I _ found.” He raises another snitch triumphantly, the smirk on his face, not easily forgotten.

 

“That is a  _ lie _ . I  _ never _ bought another snitch, charmed it so that it shall come back to me. I never did.” Ten says through gritted teeth, true panic raising in him.

 

The referee huffs at the evidence, turning it around in his hand as the Hufflepuff dutifully hands it over to him. He only pretends to consider, but given the look on his face, and the badge of yellow on his shirt, it is clear what his judgement is. 

 

“The win is a foul. The Slytherins are disqualified from their game as a result of foul play.” Rising voices rage over smirkish tones, and the spectator’s stand is in an uproar, at the mere audacity of it. And amidst all that, is the knowing glances passed between the Gryffindors and the Hufflepuffs, the Tainteds, as they smile, for once, they have overthrown the hierarchy, and they, now have a chance to be on top.

 

The nobles and royals around him are quick to act, as they send owls to their parents, urging the use of power to overthrow the decision. It isn’t a big deal, it’s just a game after all; but the pride of their house is on the line, and they would do anything to keep their winning streak. 

 

Ten, on the other hand, doesn’t really want to cause a scene. Hood up to cover his face, soaking up his sweat and adrenaline, he calls for his broom and his guards, and they arrive home in no time. He can almost hear the gossip swirling around him, back in the school: his supposed cowardice, and therefore justified crime, discussed as a hot topic.

 

He flops onto his bed, ignoring the way it dips at the arrival of his tutor, sighing lowly as he buries his face into the feathery pillows. Before he knows it, tears are soaking it, and he is trying to wipe them away to avoid them being seen by Taeyong, but it is too late. 

 

“Why are you crying?” Taeyong asks, peering at the younger, brushing away his long locks that mingle with his long eyelashes. “You need a haircut.” He comments, retracting his hand as Ten freezes at the touch. 

 

“It’s not fair.” Ten breathes out, flipping onto his back, staring at the ceiling and the way the gems reflect the setting sun. 

 

“Why do you think they accused you of cheating?” 

 

“I didn’t do it!” Ten defends, rolling onto his side, pouting as he faces his tutor. “I swear I didn’t do it. I may have done it before, but I didn’t do it this time.” 

 

“Key word: before.” Taeyong points out. “You did it before. Therefore, is it justified that they should accuse you of cheating?” 

 

“They planted evidence! They purposely did it, Yongie hyung.” Ten whines, huffing as he looks back at the emeralds embedded in the marble ceiling. 

 

“And why do you think they purposely did it? They know you’ve done it before; therefore, if they said you cheated, it’s highly likely that others will believe it.” Taeyong highlights, and Ten pouts, throwing his arms over his face. 

 

“The choices we make,” Taeyong continues, watching the outside world breeze by. Spring was still in the air, summer just around the corner, lush greenery dotted with various colours, swaying in the wind. 

 

“Are often about others.” He finishes his sentence, tilting his head to watch the way Ten is looking at him, hanging on his every word. He pats at his lap, and Ten dutifully rolls over, snuggling into the soft material, while he threads his fingers through the black hair. 

 

“Before, when you chose to deceive, when you chose to play pranks, when you chose to bully others…….even though now, you have changed, they have already painted a specific image of you. It’s hard to change it, no matter how good you are.” 

 

“Your choices, affects how people perceive you. Do you see how important it is to think carefully? You are always so rash; your voice always raised, your emotions running high. You don’t think before you speak, you don’t plan before you act. That’s not wise, is it?” He asks, looking down to see Ten pouting, crossing his arms, the sunlight making his irises seem to have emeralds floating through. 

 

“I’ve noticed that you only stay with the royals.” Taeyong continues, getting to what he really wants to talk about. “What do you think it reflects?” 

 

“......That I don’t want to be with the Tainted. But that’s not true!” Ten exclaims, sitting up, facing Taeyong, huffing almost at his outburst. “I…...like the Tainted. They aren’t bad people. They aren’t any different from us.” 

 

“So why don’t you hang out with them?” Taeyong asks, gently, pulling the other by the collar, like scruffing a kitten, pushing him back down into his lap, stroking his hair calmingly. Ten gets worked up far too easily. 

 

“Because, because, I don’t know! It’s been like that since young. You’re the first Tainted I’ve ever been close to.” He pouts, burying his face into Taeyong’s stomach, sending flutters up. 

 

“Don’t you think there needs to be a change, then?” Taeyong questions softly, brushing the falling locks of Ten’s. He really needs a haircut. 

 

The other nods almost immediately, flipping to lock his black eyes with Taeyong’s coffee brown ones. The way those flecks of green glitter under the sunlight, like romantic crashing waves during sunset, always captivates Taeyong. It’s hard to look away, with that intensity. 

 

It’s a different kind; not the one used when he wants to exert superiority and authority. It holds a strength, an edge that is still soft. A quiet confidence, a silent strength. Like the way a lion will pounce mercilessly on a deer, but treat its young with gentle care. It’s mesmerising. 

 

These physical differences often tear apart societies. The flecks in their eyes, the way they glitter and shine, the way their hair flow strong and beautiful, while the Tainted’s remain dull and dark. The colour of their skin, their height and build, their sharp chins as compared to rounder ones. And yet, that is by no means justified that there should be different treatment. They just look different; can’t they coexist in the same realm as equals? 

 

Yet, humans, muggles and wizards alike, like to differentiate. They enjoy classifying and categorising. It makes it easier for organisation and ultimate control. But is there a need to differentiate, create segments, give meaning to them, that therefore leads to discrimination and unfair treatment? 

 

The answer is clear, is it not? 

  
  


Ten raises his hand unsteadily, trembling a little as he touches the falling mocha locks of his tutor’s, brushing them aside. Taeyong’s hand rests just over his chest, the other hand freezing in between the younger’s locks, and he can feel how fast Ten’s heart is beating. 

 

Fingers follow the curves of his face, and Ten can feel the skin underneath burn at his touch, as he brushes his thumb over the full, pink lips, lips that he can’t deny, he has been dreaming for some time. 

 

What does it matter if they look different? He wonders, as he slowly gets up, sitting just next to Taeyong’s thighs, twisting his body, such that their faces are mere millimeters away, sharing the same haggard breath, warmth radiating from both their bodies, rising in temperature. 

 

Then, the warmth disappears, and Taeyong abruptly rises from the bed, clearing his throat, the back of his hand pressed over his mouth. He mutters a quick goodbye, and the door clicks shut as he leaves, Ten falling back on the bed. 

 

The emeralds have never gleamed lonelier. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](https://tenecity.tumblr.com/) and/or [twitter](https://twitter.com/tenecty)  
> and [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.me) me!


End file.
